by Hazel Grace
My appreciative smile is genuine this time because he notices small details like that. He gives a crap about food consumption and how many hours I’ve slept. If I drove with my seatbelt on after he’s heard the annoying beeping of my Jeep that rats me out when I don’t.
He checks up on me and I’ve never had that before.
Cutting into my steak, Alexander goes back to eating, watching me from the corner of his eye once in a while as he does and we sit in comfortable silence.
I don’t know anyone besides the boys that I can do this with. Wade and I would watch TV that would fill in said silence, but with Alexander, it’s just a realm of calm.
“Actually, Emmy,” he suddenly chimes in a few minutes later. “I lied.”
“Lied?”
“I need to attend my sister’s wedding and I wanted you to come with me.” My body stills, fork in mid-air as he drops the meeting-his-family bomb on me. “And, if you don’t want to, I won’t mention that we’re dating or anything. I’ll explain that you’re slow with making decisions and—“
“I’m married,” I retort sourly, disgusted not at his suggestion to take me but at myself. His tone wasn’t malice but kind and teasing. However, I can’t accept it because I don’t deserve it.
“Separated,” he counters back gently. “Unless you need to break something to me.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just…I don’t want you to have to lie for me.”
“Emmy, I won’t be giving out your life story or your dating history. You don’t have to go, but—” He shrugs and pops a piece of steak in his mouth. “—I’ll just go stag.”
“Stag?” My face twists at the thought of him just going alone. “Why would you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” His tone and face remain placid and normal, as though this conversation isn’t ridiculous.
“Because you’re a handsome man that shouldn’t be going alone.”
His lips quirk. “Finally, you admit it.”
“Don’t you have a secretary that you could go with?” Alexander almost chokes on a laugh and takes another sip of wine to get his food down.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I mean…”
“I’m not one for flaunting females that don’t mean anything to me around my immediate family.” He places his elbows on the table and grounds me with a stern look. “And whether it takes five years for you to finally call me your boyfriend, I’ll wait.”
“Mhm. You don’t want to do that, trust me.”
“Emmy Lou, you are the most attractive and secretive woman I know, and I’m beyond fascinated by you.” His eyes sparkle with mirthfulness, and I can’t believe this man—this really hot man—wants to waste his time with me.
“You need more excitement in your life then.” I pick at my food, making a mess out of it to match my muddled head.
But I mean it, Alexander needs to get it together as much as I do.
“I have all I need. Trying to figure you out is exciting enough. I told you I was never normal.”
“But you never said how. Do you round up toenail clippings, Pokemon cards?” I lift a brow. “You collect troll dolls, don’t you?”
“What’s wrong with Pokemon cards?” He narrows his eyes playfully at me, but in them, he’s interested to really know.
I grin and wag my fork at him. “So you are an attractive, down-low weirdo. I knew something had to be off with you.”
“My pickup lines didn’t hint on that?”
“I must’ve been blinded by your looks.”
“Don’t compliment me twice in one night. I might show up with a boombox outside your window next.”
I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. “I liked the one where you asked me if I ate raisins and how would I feel about a date, that was classic.”
He hides his smile behind his wine glass. “What can I say? You bring the cheesy out of me.”
I scoop up a mountain of mashed potatoes, suddenly hungry from them staring me in the face for over five minutes. “Do you have a book or something with dumb pickup lines?”
“Would you buy me one? I don’t want to run out.”
“It’s called Google,” I retort, attempting to lay off on the wry grinds.
When I think of him, all I recall most is how much he makes my cheeks hurt by the end of the night. How indeed, his goofy charm is legendary in its own right.
But the man can get away with anything. He’s a walking billboard of every woman’s fantasy of a hot guy who isn’t a complete dickhead.
“Reading a book is better,” he says as he chews. “Holding it and flipping through the pages.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Very good.” He goes back to his plate, cutting another slice off his filet mignon and taking his time with eating it. We’re at his favorite steakhouse, and everyone knows him here. He gets the same spot and dinner, except sometimes he says he likes to go out of the box and try something new.
However, he doesn’t want to feel like he’s missing out on his steak and bleu cheese sauce. He insists that it’s like cheating.
A waitress walks by with a steaming plate and Alexander flicks his attention to it. I notice his frown then remember him debating between marinated sea bass and the steak currently residing in front of him.
The poor man had a hell of a civil war playing out in his head over what course he wanted to eat.
“Alexander,” I coo, immediately gaining his regard. “You wanna get wild tonight?”
His chewing slows as he flicks his focus back to me. “Sweetheart, I’d do anything with you.”
I bite down on the inside of my lips and wave over our waitress. Luckily, she shows up in my line of sight, and when she arrives at our table, I give her a sweet smile because she might hate me after this.
It’s late, and she probably wishes to be done with her shift already.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
“Please, my boyfriend wants to try the miso-marinated sea bass, and can you bring me the lobster mac ’n cheese? I promise I’ll tip you well for a second dinner and being bothered with us.”
The young woman gives me a genuine grin back. “It’s not a problem. I’ll go put those in for you right away. Can I offer you refills?”
“Please, thank you so much.” She takes off, and I find Alexander staring at me like I just insulted or won him over with the food order.
Pulling his black napkin from his lap, he tosses it on the table and scoots out of his side of the booth. Rounding the table, he plops his ass next to me, and he reaches to cup my face.
He doesn’t say a word but pulls us together into a soft kiss that turns PG-13 when his tongue licks the seam of my mouth.
I allow him in, breathing in his expensive cologne of citrus and mint, something that isn’t too strong but fits him perfectly. The pad of his thumb grazes my cheek, and I forget about where we are for a brief moment.
“You called me your boyfriend,” he murmurs against the corner of my lips. “Is that what I am? Did I get upgraded?”
Did he? Why did I just say that?
“Honestly, I don’t fucking know,” I confess wholeheartedly.
Another kiss is delivered to my mouth, and before he returns to his side of the table, he mutters, “When all is right in your world, one day, I’m going to make you my wife. You’ll never again know what alone feels like.”
My lips curl from the sweet comment, but it doesn’t hit anywhere near my heart. It warms my chest, but my vital organ doesn’t flutter or sing.
It just notices and wonders.
This is what a universe would be like without Bishop—peaceful.
Alexander burned dinner after a valiant try, sending my smoke alarm screeching and the God awful smell of burning white sauce on my stovetop. I opted him out for a deep-dish pizza with pineapple on his side and regular toppings on mine.
And when I mean regular, I mean pepperoni, bacon, ham, and green peppers—normal shit.
Limbs mixed together on my couch, we’re watching a food contest show. At the same time, Alexander randomly attempts to shove a piece of his revolting, fruit-filled slice into my mouth.
“Stop,” I scold off a whine, pulling my face away. “I’m not eating that crap.”
“It’s good, I’m telling you.”
I wave my arm in the air like I’m building an imaginary wall. “Keep your weird things to yourself. I’m already a nut job.”
“C’mon, Ems, I’ll give you anything you want. One bite.”
I perk a brow, suddenly interested. “Anything?” He hits me with a full-on stare that means whatever I want. “Well, I like the sound of that.”
“Open up, sweetheart.” My mouth slowly widens as I keep eye contact, and his hazels crinkle along the golden edges. “Geezus Christ, stop making this sexual.”
“I’m just opening up my mouth.” I innocently bat my eyes. “You’re the one who suggested shoveling your dirty piece of—“ He lets out a frustrated and feral groan which gets me to chuckle again. “Do you not want me to take a bite?”
“I prefer you to do something else entirely now.” He lowers his already bitten slice away from my mouth and into his, keeping himself busy from my teasing.
“Show me.” Alexander shifts on the couch, but he doesn’t make a move.
We’ve been in this weird state where we’ve had sex, but we don’t jump each other’s bones yet. He doesn’t push me with the looming circumstances of my life to create an armed conflict in my head.
However, I’m not sure if it’s because he prefers for me to come to terms on my own with everything and approach him when I’m ready or if he wants to take this slow.
Regardless, these past weeks have been amazing. He has become a quick routine with sprinkled thoughts that keeps me on my toes.
For example, Alexander texted me good morning today before he went into the office, then Doordashed me lunch because he’s already aware of how awful my eating habits are. In the afternoon, he called me to tell me he missed me, was going to cook dinner, and wear sweatpants.
Every day or night with Alexander is seamless and casual. I’m not on edge, and he accepts me and my muddled mind as we are.
And while I’ve told him several times on different occasions that he deserves something and someone better than me, he retorts with, not telling him what to do.
“Because the only way I’m tasting that pineapple is off your tongue,” I continue before Alexander tosses it to the pizza box on the coffee table and balls my shirt in his hand.
As gently as he can, he gets me to the floor and onto my knees, encasing me around his thighs.
“You’re going to be tasting my come inside that sweet little mouth of yours, Emmy,” he dictates, then nods his head. “If you wanna tease me, get to work, love.”
Well…
With his help, I get his dress pants down his legs and into a pool at his feet while I purposely keep his boxers on. My fingers slide up and taunt his hardness, reveling in what my small hands can do to a powerful and wealthy man with the patience of a saint.
“Are you negotiating with it because it wants to be free.”
I smile, then lean in closer to his clothed dick like we’re about to have a conversation without him. “I’m playing.”
Alexander’s long fingers lace into my hair and tighten in silent warning. “Play with it in your mouth.”
Ow, bossy Alexander, I like.
Following his order, I unveil him and wrap my pink lips around his shaft. I suck, and my tongue brushes along the sides, exploring little places that he seems to appreciate that maybe I haven’t gotten to before.
“You’re going to get choked, Ems,” he warns, thrusting impatiently into my mouth a little. “Quick is completely fine with me.”
I hum along his cock. The poor man doesn’t know that the more he begs, the more I get off. It goes for matters like this and when I’m working B723.
Vulnerability and how we see it on every mission make people either do stupid things or release their innermost thoughts and fears. It’s probably why we all are how we are.
Especially me and my so-called husband.
Alexander lifts off the couch, sliding his dick deeper into my mouth as I adjust to his size the further he goes. He finds his rhythm quickly and groans, keeping my head where he wants me to be.
“Fuck, Ems.” I feel him twitch between my lips, and I wrap my thumb and index finger around the bottom of his shaft. “I’m ready to die now.” I shake my head because I’d never want that to happen.
In a way, he’s my sanity to my craziness. He’s the only thing in my life that’s constant but not involved in the darkness of my second family. B723, and everyone in it is my entire life, but Alexander is my vacation spot. The man who doesn’t pry and push and makes me feel like I’m just a complete bitch. That my overbearing nature isn’t a huge issue, and I’m welcomed here with him, in intimate and small moments with pineapple.
A sharp rasp on my condo door sounds and my eyes clamp shut. I forgot I told Mills to drop off some files for me since he was in the office tonight.
Alexander begins to pull out between my lips, but I seize his thigh to keep him here.
“You can go answer the door,” he says. “I’ll—“ I deep throat him, and his whole body laxes then shivers. “Holy fuck.” I bob my head more urgently, wanting him to come before we have to stop. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
That gets my heart to beat double-time and swelter. It yearns and collects it into a little vile as the words repeat in my brain.
No, he can’t mean it like…fully.
Alexander is a magnificent guy, and I don’t assume that he says things like that all the time to just anyone. I feel special regardless, and when I take all of him in again, he comes, spurting his come in my mouth as I swallow and lick.
Immediately helping me up, Alexander presses a hot and heavy kiss to my lips before smacking my ass. “You…later.”
My mouth lifts, and I practically walk-skip to the door. Whipping it open, I hold out my hand to take the manila folders from Mills when I flinch backward.
Darkness covers my doorstep, attired in a white tee and dark blue jeans. Long raven hair casually styled on the side of his face with his matching beard, longer than the last time I saw him over a month ago.
Then I notice what’s in his hands.
A bundle of various pink flowers, ones that have fully bloomed and others that were still cocooned in green, lay beautifully in his grip.
My mouth opens to say something, but he reaches for me, hauling me into his tight chest then into the brick siding of my condo.
His lips slam into mine while his hand possessively wraps around the bottom of my chin. His tongue seeks immediate entrance, and I melt against his heat and the hardness of his body.
It doesn’t register at first.
No, it takes a good ten seconds before my brain connects to the rationality and truth that is inside my place right now fixing his pants.
I don’t get to push Bishop away because he does it himself.
He steps back like I just electrocuted him, and recognition dawns on him. He tasted me and, even though I’m quite aware Bishop doesn’t suck dick, he more than likely may have just sampled something that wasn’t me just now.
“Been busy, wife?” he sneers, shoulders tense and bulked out as if he’s about to enter war. I press my spine deeper into the sharp edges of the brick, allowing myself to be reminded that this is what it feels like to continue running back to him.
It’s jagged, uncomfortable, and unforgiving.
“What are you doing here?” I ask off a shaky exhale, my hand flying to my stomach because it won’t stop knotting.
I’m going to throw up.
I can’t keep doing this with him and everything begs me to let go. To finish this and start new with something else. I deserve better, but some of me doesn’t want it.
“Just got
back,” he deadpans, keeping his intense stare on me and tossing the perfectly arranged bouquet to the ground.
His eyes are dark now, full of anger, confusion, and regret as he stands before me.
I’m guessing that he wishes he never would’ve shown up here. That it took him a lot to do so, and now he could kick himself in the ass for giving in. I long and crave for more, and he does the same. We both won’t give in, but we’re hydrogen and oxygen; we need each other to breathe.
“How did it go?” I ask, digging my fingertips into my t-shirt. “The mission, I mean.”
“He’s dead.”
I bob my head. “Good. When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.” His head cocks to the left. “Miss me, baby?”
The squeaking of my front door whines but Bishop and I don’t break eye contact.
No, it’s more dangerous than that.
I’ve seen Bishop take on multiple men at one time and come out on the other side with only a few bruises. Alexander could become dog food if Bishop so pleased.
My guest being in plain view of such a creature isn’t safe. And the fullness of Bishop’s glare isn’t necessarily a secure location either.
“Hi,” Alexander greets, and—Lord help the man—he holds out a hand. “I’m Alexander.”
“You must be the boyfriend,” my husband grumbles, flicking his gaze to him.
“You’ve heard of me?” Alexander’s voice goes up a notch, sounding completely surprised and thrilled at the news.
I want to crawl into a tiny hole and die.
Bishop steps up on him, and I know that move anywhere. I’ve seen all the boys do it, even Blue. It ends up with Bishop’s fist in someone else’s face.
Quickly I step in, trying to make it look casual as I block Alexander from being swung on, sandwiching myself between the bold and the freaking beautiful.
“Bishop just came back from Germany. He had a few things he had to run by me real quick.”
“Oh, fantastic,” Alexander marvels behind me. “Did you get a chance to see the Heidelberg Castle or the Colgate Cathedral?”
“No, I was too busy stalking—“